


At Least I'm One

by reachthetree



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reachthetree/pseuds/reachthetree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as Louis is happy, it's all good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so frustrated at Harry for writing Just a Little Bit of Your Heart!!! Why did he do this to me!!!! Anyway I've listened to it on repeat and this came out and it's not beta'd so you know why it's crappy. I just had to get these Feelings out. Sorry.

When Louis lets himself in, Harry is already asleep. He comes to for a second when he hears the tap run in the kitchen. _So Louis is home_ , he thinks in his half-awake state, and goes back to sleep.

He’s woken up a few minutes later by a Louis with toothpaste on his chin.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, but it’s a very loud whisper, and why is he whispering anyway? He clearly wants Harry to wake up.

“Mm,” Harry grumbles.

Louis sits down on the bed and touches Harry’s shoulder softly. “Can I sleep here?” He says. Despite his efforts he still smells a bit like alcohol.

Harry doesn’t say anything, just moves over and lifts the covers for Louis to get under. Louis smiles and peels his jeans off before getting in. Harry turns on his side, away from Louis, but a second later Louis is all around him, his arms wrapped around Harry’s torso and his chin snuggled in where Harry’s shoulder becomes neck, and Harry sighs.

This is all too familiar.

*

“So,” Louis says over his morning tea, “aren’t you going to ask me if I had fun last night?”

Harry continues chopping his banana, intently looking at the cutting board, as he responds, “I don’t need to, I’ve been out with you, I know you always have fun.”

Louis laughs, loud and happy but a little raspy from whatever shenanigans he got up to the night before. “This is true,” he says. “You know me so well,” he adds fondly. 

Harry shoves a piece of banana in his mouth.

*

Louis doesn’t like sleeping alone. Most night he’s at Harry’s. Sometimes on the sofa, sometimes in Harry’s bed. It’s all good. As long as Louis is happy, it’s all good.

 

*

One night Louis arrives at Harry’s past 11 and slightly tipsy.

“Have you been at work until now?” Harry asks, confused.

“Oh no,” Louis says, “I met a friend for a pint after.”

A friend. “Oh, ok,” Harry says. If Louis doesn’t want to specify which friend, Harry doesn’t need to know.

No matter who it was, he can guess the reason why Louis isn’t telling him. That’s enough.

*

They’re on the sofa, watching Big Brother, when Louis pokes Harry’s thigh with his foot. “Harry,” he whines. “I feel needy.”

Harry grabs Louis’ foot to keep it still. “How so, babe?”

Louis looks at him. “Can you just hold me for a bit?”

Harry’s heart skips a beat. “Of course,” he says softly. “Come here.”

The hair in the nape of Louis’ neck is soft and smells like soap and Louis. It’s unsettling how well Harry knows the smell of Louis’ skin. He could probably identify Louis by smell even if he changed his body and appearance completely.

They continue watching tv, at least keeping up the pretense of doing so, and Harry allows himself to rub circles on Louis’ tummy with his thumb. He can feel Louis’ breathing. And after a while, Louis pressing his bum on Harry’s cock, which immediately twitches with interest. Traitor.

“So that’s what you meant by needy?” Harry whispers in Louis’ ear, and Louis shivers, then giggles breathily.

“I mean, no, but also, not necessarily not,” he whispers back. So Harry sneaks his hand under Louis’ t-shirt and places it on his lower stomach, his pinky resting just above the hemline of Louis’ loungepants. 

He’s warm and lovely like he always is.

Harry knows it’s going to happen before Louis turns around and kisses him. He already knows that Louis isn’t going to get naked for this. He knows how he’s going to flick his wrist to make Harry come. He knows all of Louis’ whimpers. He knows Louis’ taste like it’s his favourite drink, but still he would never waste a drip.

“I love you,” Louis says afterwards.

“I love you too.”

*

It’s the weekend and Louis is out. He asked Harry to come, but Harry said no. He needs to save money. But of course Louis can still sleep over. Harry’s is closer to the city, it only makes sense, and it’s not a problem. Of course.

Harry is changing the sheets – not for Louis’ drunk and gross benefit, they just needed changing, okay – when he gets a text from Louis.

**Looks like I’m spending the night somewhere else oops ;)**

That’s fine. 

**_Be safe!_** Harry texts back.

He doesn’t get a response. Louis has fulfilled his friend duty by letting Harry know he’s not coming, so Harry doesn’t have to worry, and that’s plenty. You can’t really ask more of a friend.

You really can’t.

*

“I saw my ex last night,” Louis says and takes a bite of his scone, like it’s no big deal.

_Do you still love him?_

“Did you have fun?”

Louis shrugs. “Yeah, it was nice. I’m really glad we’re still friends.”

Harry nods, unsure is there’s more to come. After a second, he says, “That’s really good.”

“Yeah, it’s just, I care so much about him, our bond was, and is, very special.” 

Louis smiles, a crooked and tentative smile, and Harry notices for the thousand time how perfectly shaped his mouth is. 

He takes a large gulp of tea and feels it burn in his chest.

*

Harry goes home to Holmes Chapel for Christmas and when he gets back, Louis is waiting for him at the train station. He lights up when he sees Harry and runs up to him to hug him, warm and tight. When they let go, Harry sees that his eyelashes are wet. Probably from the snow.

“Welcome home,” Louis says. “I missed you.”

Harry smiles. “I missed you too,” he says, and his heart aches with just how true that statement is.

*

Louis loves Harry and Harry loves Louis. Louis doesn’t love Harry like Harry loves Louis, but he loves him. He gets to have Louis in his life, gets to make him laugh and hold him and see him smile, and that’s more than anyone could ask for. It’s enough.

It has to be enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tequila goes great with pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for excessive drinking and also drunk sex.

Harry knows he has no right to be jealous. But he is. He's jealous of Louis' casual hook-ups, he's jealous of Louis' other friends, but mostly he's jealous of Louis' family. He wants to be the person Louis calls in an emergency, he wants to be Louis' first choice for celebrating Christmas and birthdays, he wants to be that safe haven of love.

He wants to be Louis' everything.

But at least I'm something, he thinks. Harry sighs, and goes on with his life.

*

In January Louis gets the flu. Harry doesn't know until Louis texts him, asking if he can come around with toilet paper since Louis is too ill to go to the store. Of course he can, and is there anything else Louis needs? No, just the loo paper, thanks so much.

Harry buys a cup of soup anyway, and some popsicles, and a trashy magazine. Just in case.

When Louis opens the door, he's shaking. His hair is greasy and stuck to his forehead and the skin around his nose looks red and irritated. Harry can't hold back an "aww". Louis looks terrible and he just wants to stroke his hair. He winces at Harry's sound, though, so Harry doesn't say that.

"Here," Harry says, and hands Louis the bag. Louis seems confused, but then he looks in the bag and sighs.

"You didn't have to get all this," he croaks. "And fancy, soft loo paper? Please." He looks at Harry like he's hopeless. He's not wrong.

Harry shrugs. "Just got some extra stuff in case you wanted it," he says. He hesitates, but then he asks, "do you want me to stay for a bit? I could clean up your tissues or whatever."

Louis tries to laugh but immediately starts coughing violently. Harry just stands there, waiting for it to stop, with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "That's," Louis tries, but his voice comes out all squeaky and he has to clear his throat, which looks like it hurts, "that's okay, Harry," he manages to whisper, "I'll be fine."

"You don't sound fine," Harry points out, and Louis rolls his eyes.

"I just need to rest. I'll see you when I feel better, okay? Thank you for this," he says and gestures with the shopping bag Harry left him, and then he motions to close the door and Harry has to take a step back and let him.

He stays on the steps for a few moments and stares at the door. The door stares back. Louis doesn't need you, says the door. Now go.

So he goes.

*

"Have you told him how you feel?" Niall looks a bit tired, and that's fine, Harry's tired of this too.

He shakes his head. "He knows that I love him, yeah, and I think it's fairly obvious that I'd do anything for him, and that's not enough, so... I guess I don't think it's worth it to say it out loud."

"'Cos you assume he already knows?" Niall sounds skeptical.

Harry sighs. "Not exactly, but, what we do have is so special, and I'm not ready to lose that."

"So you're just going to mope and pine for the rest of your life?"

"That's the plan," Harry says bitterly and raises his beer. "Cheers."

Niall shakes his head, but he copies Harry's motion with the beer and drinks heartily. "Hey," he says after wiping some stray drops from his mouth. "You know what goes great with pining? Tequila!"

Tequila does go great with pining. After five shots Harry's neither sour nor salty. He's very warm and bubbly and friendly, he loves Niall, and he loves Louis. There's a hot man talking to Niall, Harry should probably go see who it is, but first he needs to talk to Louis. He opens their whatsapp conversation and presses the voice message button.

"Hiiiiiii," he breathes. "Tequila goes great with pining! I'm drunk. I'm so drunk, holy shit. Niall is nice. Nice-all, hahaha. I wish you were here! Tequila is so much fun. You'd love it. I'm fun now, so you should be here, but you're not. Iiiiiii... have to go. Bye!"

He shoves his phone back in his pocket – which seems to have gotten smaller? strange - and heads over to Niall and Hot Man.

"Harry!" Niall is a ball of sunshine. "Meet Zayn. Zayn, this is my friend I was telling you about."

Harry giggles. "Shh, I hope you didn't tell him anything... incriminating."

Zayn laughs at that. "Only good things, I promise," and he goes to shake Harry's hand.

"Sorry I'm all... sticky," Harry mumbles. "There was tequila."

"I heard," Zayn smiles, and he is even hotter up close. Why is he so nice to Harry? Then he sees Niall behind Zayn, and he winks at Harry and disappears. Oh. Okay.

Harry turns his focus back to Zayn. "Would you like a drink?" he asks with his most winning smile.

"I'd like that very much," Zayn responds, and okay. Harry knows how to do this. Probably.

It's been a while since Harry did this, but he remembers that you're supposed to drink, and talk and smile, and at some point initiate physical contact. Zayn is easy to talk to and when he strokes Harry's arm it's surprisingly pleasant. There is more alcohol and then there's a taxi and Zayn's apartment with graffiti on the walls. Harry looks at the art while Zayn fucks him and thinks, Louis would love this apartment.

*

When Harry wakes up he's in his own bed with no memory of how he got there. His head is pounding and his face feels crusty. He touches the skin lightly with his fingertips, trying to determine if the sticky traces are tears or come. He decides that it doesn't matter and goes back to sleep.

The next time he wakes up the hangover has reached full capacity. He has to stumble to the bathroom to throw up, but there's nothing in there, just the tiniest amount of sad phlegm. Maybe tequila doesn't go so well with pining after all.

Back in bed he starts looking for his phone. There's a text from Niall and one from Louis. Against better knowledge, he opens the one from Louis first.

**sounds like someone had fun last night? :p**

He closes his eyes and knows that if he wasn't so dehydrated, tears would be welling up. Louis doesn't need to know that. No ugly details. He types out a short reply and hits send before he can think too much about it.

_**Oh yeah, was great craic!** _

There is silence from Louis after that. 

Harry spends the day in bed, not crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken hearts go to Disney land.
> 
> Warnings: alcohol, throwing up, brief mention of suicidal thoughts.

London is terribly cold in the winter. Harry wears large jumpers that slump around his shoulders and hides his hands in the sleeves. He curls up under blankets on the sofa and drinks copious amounts of hot chocolate, trying to make it cozy, trying to understand what winter enthusiasts are on about.

It’s not cozy.

He invites Louis over to watch a film, because surely that would increase the coziness in his chilly flat. Louis says yes only to cancel at the last minute because he managed to get double booked. Oh well.

Harry could invite Niall over instead, but he doesn’t. He watches Peter Pan by himself, because that’s Louis’ favourite Disney movie, and wipes his tears away with the sleeve of his knitted jumper.

So what? Everyone cries at Disney movies.

Niall has been pestering him about that beautiful man he fucked the other week. Or rather got fucked by, as it were. He’s prodding Harry about seeing him again and using way too many winky face emojis for a legal adult. Harry’s tried to laugh about it and gently steering the conversation away, because really, that’s not something he wants. He wishes he could, but when he closes his eyes and thinks back, all he remembers is one thought: Louis would like this place.

He doesn’t remember much else and that is probably poignant in every way it shouldn’t be.

*

Harry’s bed is empty a lot these days. Harry is there, of course, and he spreads out like a starfish, trying to fill it up, but it’s not enough. He’s not enough.

He doesn’t know how or why Louis stopped staying over all the time, but it happened. The routine is broken, and Harry considers asking for Louis to come back, to be there, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to admit to missing him as much as he does.

All these feelings make everything feel fragile and strange, and Harry feels like a question could push Louis even farther away.

But of course he accepts when Louis asks if he wants to come clubbing with his friends, and spends a good amount of time picking the right number of buttons to leave unbuttoned.

“Don’t want to look like a slag,” he murmurs to himself and buttons so at least his bellybutton is covered up, but his chest is on full display. Ready for Louis to drunkenly latch onto with his mouth, Harry’s brain thinks before he can stop it.

He hits himself on the thigh, just one sharp hit with a closed fist, and goes on to fix his hair.

This is going to be fun, really.

It is fun, for a while. Harry has an apple-tasting drink first, then a passionfruit one, and they get out on the dancefloor before the floor has even gone sticky. Harry lets himself get carried into pop song euphoria, lets his hips swirl and his arms do whatever they want with the beat, and Louis smiles at him and does the same.

The gritty starts when Louis starts downing shots, and his friends leave one by one until it’s only Louis and Harry. Harry’s tired, but Louis doesn’t want to go home, so Harry gets another drink.

“What do you think of that guy?” Louis asks Harry, pointing to some lanky hipster with hipbones showing over his low-riding jeans.

“For what?” Harry asks even though he knows he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

Louis rolls his eyes. “For me to fuck, what else?” Harry’s stomach turns and Louis squints at the guy he’s checking out. “Or he could fuck me, I don’t mind.”

“Whatever you want, Lou,” Harry says, and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

He feels his stomach turn again as he watches Louis make his way over to hipbone guy. Maybe that drink wasn’t what he needed. He feels a cold sweat starting to break out, and no, definitely not what he needed.

Harry walks so fast he’s half-running to the toilets and gets to a stall just in time for the drink and all the others he’s had to revisit him. By the time he’s done his mouth tastes like rotten fruit and the floor is hard under his knees and he’s probably never felt this miserable.

He’s about to go home and just text Louis to be safe, but when he steps outside Louis is in the smoking area. Alone.

“Hi,” he rasps, throat sore from stomach acids.

Louis blows some smoke out before replying, “can I sleep at yours?”

Harry feels like the epitome of trash. “’Course you can,” he says. “Let’s get a taxi.”

He doesn’t ask why Louis didn’t pull and Louis doesn’t say anything at all during the taxi ride. It’s only when Harry’s brushed his teeth, gotten a pint glass of water and a bucket situated next to the bed, and snuggles down next to Louis, that Louis admits defeat.

“He laughed,” he whispers into Harry’s neck. “He fucking laughed in my face.”

Harry holds back a shudder from the way Louis’ breath tickles his neck. “I’m sorry, babe,” he says.

Louis sighs and pulls Harry closer. It’s so painfully perfect to have him close, warm and breathing, even if he’s only a consolation prize to Louis. His stubble digs into Harry’s shoulder, and Harry closes his eyes and pretends that he’s the one Louis actually wanted to spend the night with.

He’s not, though.

*

A few days before Harry’s 20th birthday in February, his mum calls and asks him to take a few days off work. He asks why, and she says it’s a surprise, so he does. Harry loves surprises.

On January 31st, Anne and Robin pick Harry up with a taxi. He’s been told to pack clothes for warm weather, but it’s not until they’re at Heathrow they unveil their exact destination.

“Los Angeles,” Harry reads aloud from his ticket, slowly processing it before pulling them both into a tight hug. “This was just what I needed,” he says to Anne’s shoulder, and she smiles like she knows when they pull apart.

On the plane Harry listens to Adele and thinks about all the miles that are being put between him and Louis, one after the other, and tries to make it feel like relief. But they were too far apart to begin with, he thinks, and crushes his plastic cup with his fist.

Too far apart.

*

Disney land is the happiest place in the world. Harry gets a big, brightly coloured, button that says “it’s my first time!” He briefly thinks that he should have had one of those on when he first sucked someone’s cock. Then he shakes that thought away because that’s disturbing.

They go on Pirates of the Caribbean first. Harry takes a deep breath as he gets in the boat, pretends he’s not intimidated by how it wobbles in the water, and wills himself to enjoy it. It is enjoyable, he knows this. He fucking loves the Pirates of the Caribbean films and for a moment during the ride, he smiles in amazement over the world they’ve built.

He does not think about how Disney is a shitty place to work and built on racism and general grossness. Happiest place in the world.

“You having fun, love?” Anne asks him when they’re sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the parade.

“Yeah, loads,” Harry tells her and smiles.

The parade makes him cry. He wishes he was younger, wishes he believed that the people smiling and singing were actually princesses, wishes he didn’t know that magic isn’t real.

Afterwards they get Mickey shaped cookies and eat them while walking toward Sleeping Beauty’s castle. It’s tiny and Harry hits his head going through a door.

They’re in line for King Arthur’s carousel when Harry spots someone with a “Happy birthday!” button and thinks, I want to die. What if it said that on the button? He shakes his head, for fuck’s sake, when did he get so morbid?

“You okay?” Anne asks him.

Harry clenches his jaw but nods. “Yeah.” He needs to add something to make it convincing, so he says, “just having a bit of an age crisis here.”

Anne ruffles his hair. “Shh, adults can go on carousels.”

“Why don’t you go, then?” Harry asks, and musters a smile.

“Because someone needs to be on camera duty,” she smiles back.

Harry chooses a unicorn to ride on. He looks down on the sword in the stone when they pass it, castle in the background, and thinks: this is so lovely. The next thought comes crashing before he’s prepared at all:

I can’t have lovely things.

The carousel stops and so does his heart.

Anne and Robin go to have something to eat, and Harry sets out to queue for Peter Pan’s Flight by himself. The sun is scorching and he has to turn the brightness on his phone all the way up to be able to see his twitter feed. He’s just in the middle of trying to understand what’s funny about a meme when he gets a call.

Louis.

Harry stares at the screen for a few seconds, holding his breath, before he exhales deeply and answers.

“Hello?”

There’s silence for a second. “Hi,” Louis says. He sounds very quiet and not like himself.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks before he can think a second thought about it.

It’s silent on the other end again and Harry thinks the call may have disconnected before Louis speaks again. “No,” he admits, sounding tired and broken.

Harry feels cold despite the sweat forming on his forehead. “What happened?” he asks, and the queue moves forward.

This is all very surreal, he thinks.

“I,” Louis begins, and then goes silent again. “I did something bad.”

Harry’s stomach turns. He’s about to go on a ride. This is not good.

“Do you want to tell me?” He asks, trying to not let his voice convey how scared he is of the answer.

He can hear Louis choke back a sob at the other end. God. If his heart wasn’t already breaking it would be now.

“I,” Louis starts again, and sniffles before continuing, “I fucked my ex, okay, I fucking fucked up,” Harry’s head starts spinning and Louis makes a desperate whining sound, “he has a girlfriend, Harry, fucking hell, I messed up so bad.”

“That’s–“ Harry starts, but Louis cuts him off.

“Please tell me it’s going to be okay,” Louis says brokenly, outright sobbing now, “please, I need you to tell me.”

“It’s going to be okay.” Harry says it immediately, and he doesn’t know that for a fact, but Louis needs it.

“Really?” He can’t hear Louis breathing any more. Harry nods, even if Louis can’t see him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he says again.

He can hear Louis exhale. “Okay.”

Harry’s almost at the front of the queue now, about to fly off with Peter Pan, so he tells Louis he’ll call him later, and for a third time that it’s going to be okay.

“Thank you,” is the last thing Louis says before they hang up.

Harry should probably feel a bit weird going on a ride by himself, alone in the cart because no one wants to ride with a stranger. But all he can think about is Louis telling him “I need you”.

He’s flying through a starry sky, and Louis needs him, and he can give Louis what he needs. He can fly.

When he gets off, he texts Louis “I can fly and so can you and everything will be fine” with a bunch of star emojis after it. It’s going to cost him, texting overseas, but he doesn’t give a fuck about that right now. Harry knows he shouldn’t be feeling good, because Louis isn’t, but his need to be needed has been satisfied and it feels so good. It feels right.

He just wants to be what Louis needs.

The rest of the day is notably more magical. Harry gets his picture taken with Mickey Mouse and Anne takes a picture of him making a scandalized face under the sign for “The Gag Factory”.

When he falls into his hotel bed at midnight, he’s sore all over from walking, and too tired to be sad.

*

London seems even more grey when Los Angeles is fresh in his mind. Harry loves London, he reminds himself as he shoves the door to his flat open.

There’s still some clothes on the floor and a used tea cup in the sink. Somehow it feels like Harry’s revisiting a life he’s not living any more. He doesn’t want to dwell on that feeling, so he dumps his bag in his bedroom and takes a shower. The water running down his face feels soothing, and he washes the travel sweat away in an almost serene mindset.

He’s got this.

*

“So,” Louis says and wraps his hands around the tea cup. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

They’re in a café, because Harry wanted to do this on neutral ground. Maybe it’s not a big deal, people are in love with their best friends all the time, but in Harry’s life this is monumental so he’s treating it that way.

Harry swallows. “Why don’t you tell me how you’re doing first?” He asks, half of him wanting to know, and half of him wanting to put this off for a bit longer.

When he gets to what he has to say their relationship is going to change, for better or worse. He wants to hold on to what he has for a couple of more minutes.

Louis smiles crookedly and snorts bitterly. “I’m doing fine,” he says. Harry tries to stare him down, and Louis looks away and adds, “no, really.” He’s tapping his short nails against the cup.

“You weren’t fine when you called,” Harry points out.

Louis rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that was bad, sorry about that.”

Harry’s stomach sinks. “It wasn’t bad,” he says slowly. “You can call if you need me.”

Louis smiles fondly. “I know.” His voice has gone soft, too. “I just calmed down and realized that he’s the one who’s in a relationship, not me, and it’s not my responsibility where he puts his dick.”

Harry winces on the inside, but he wills his face into a smile. “That’s true,” he says. “See, I told you it would be okay.”

Louis takes a sip from his tea. “You did,” he says when he’s swallowed. They’re silent for a few seconds before Louis presses, “so, are you ever going to tell me your thing?”

Harry’s pulse speeds up. He can’t put this off any longer. “Yeah,” he starts, looking down on the muffin he bought. It looks good but his mouth is too dry for muffins right now. “Yeah, see, it’s just a small thing, and I’m just telling you because I want to preserve our friendship, not for some… Other reason.”

Louis bites his bottom lip, looking serious, and nods slowly. “Okay,” he says, and Harry takes a deep breath.

“So basically, I’m in love with you.” Louis mouth pops open, but before he can say anything Harry continues, “and it’s fine, really, I’m going to get over it, I’m mostly telling you so my heart can catch up with the fact my brain already knows, which is that it will never happen, and I’m not even sure I want it to, I love being your friend, it’s just like,” he tries to find more words because he’s not ready for Louis to respond, “I just, yeah, I just thought I’d tell you.”

He takes a deep breath and starts picking his muffin apart. There are a few seconds of silence where the only thing Harry can hear is how Louis isn’t saying anything. He feels like he’s about to puke his heart out on the table. Like he hasn’t just done that already.

“Er,” Louis starts, and Harry looks up, and Louis looks so fucking concerned. Fuck. “Harry,” Louis starts again, and reaches his hands out to take Harry’s. Harry lets him.

“You know I love you, right?”

Harry bites his lip and nods, looking down on their hands laced together on the table. In any other situation that would be romantic. How ironic.

“Harry, look at me.” Harry does, and Louis has that fond look on his face again. Harry aches. “I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be.”

Harry shakes his head, “no, that’s not what I–“

“No,” Louis says, “listen. I wish I could be that for you. I love you so much, please believe me.” 

Harry swallows. This is even harder than he imagined it would be. He nods, willing himself to look Louis in the eye. The other people in the café are chatting and laughing and it’s a strange reminder that even though Harry’s world is tipping on its axis, life goes on.

“But you said,” Louis says, “that you want us to be friends?” Harry nods. “So we’ll get through this.”

Tears are pooling in Harry’s eyes now. This is a lot. This is a whole fucking lot. 

Louis squeezes his hand and looks at him with the most gentle expression Harry has ever seen on his face. His hands are warm against Harry’s and even if he’s not holding them for the reason Harry wants, he’s thankful for whatever Louis gives him.

“I love you,” Louis says softly. Harry takes a deep breath, then Louis speaks again.

“It’s going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo this might not be the happy ending you were hoping for, but some kind of closure at least?

**Author's Note:**

> come to specklesocks.tumblr.com and cry in my inbox if you want


End file.
